


The Dress

by LoonyLevicorpus



Series: Picnic [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLevicorpus/pseuds/LoonyLevicorpus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan takes the group out for a picnic. "Les Amis had been roped into the yearly tradition without realizing it, as Jehan texted each of them one afternoon each spring informing them that tomorrow was the perfect day for a picnic. Each year he picked a different location."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and the first of at least two parts. It's spring and I saw this dress on ModCloth and was inspired.
> 
> http://www.modcloth.com/shop/dresses/beyond-the-meadow-dress

Jehan had suggested, not long after they all became friends in freshman year, that they go out for a picnic. That first year it had been on one of the campus lawns. He made the mistake of asking everyone to bring food to share, and the feast consisted of Lunchables, warm beer, and endless bags of potato chips. From then on Jehan prepared and supplied the food himself (though Courfeyrac always tried to convince Jehan to let him help). Les Amis had been roped into the yearly tradition without realizing it, as Jehan texted each of them one afternoon each spring informing them that tomorrow was the perfect day for a picnic. Each year he picked a different location. Once it had been on the beach and had lasted into the night with a wild bonfire; another time he sent them all an address that turned out to be the tropical conservatory downtown. This year’s location was a set of coordinates that showed up on Google maps as a whole lot of nothing.

“What the fuck kind of place is Jehan taking us, some Hakuna Matata paradise that you have to kill yourself getting into?” roared Bahorel over the rumbling of tires. No one answered him, too intent on holding on for their lives while Courfeyrac’s car violently bounced down a pitted dirt road. They were really in the country now. The car kicked up clouds of dust all around them, and Courfeyrac bent low over the steering wheel as he squinted out the windshield. Behind their car, Enjolras drove the rest of the Amis in the same fashion.

Courfeyrac let out a hearty cheer when he spotted Jehan’s rundown little VW bug not far from the point where pavement turned into dirt. Bossuet had bumped his head on the roof of the car when they went over one of the rougher patches of road, and Joly banged his elbow on the window while trying to examine Bossuet’s head for injury. Eponine howled with laughter at the pair of them, but Courfeyrac was feeling the stress of driving five loud (and in Bahorel’s case, whiney) friends an hour out of the city. If Jehan hadn’t made him some of his special ginger chocolate macaroons, Courfeyrac might even decide to be grumpy.

He parked his car behind Jehan’s on the road and motioned to Enjolras to do the same, confident that blocking the road wasn’t an issue. Like there would be any other cars passing through here. He was also confident that if he parked next to Jehan’s car, the crushed grass and flowers would make Jehan upset. And upsetting Jehan was the very last thing that Courfeyrac ever wanted to do.

Everyone piled out of the cars, stretching and shaking off stiffness from the ride. Bahorel examined the field and declared it a “dump” before fishing out a cigarette and puffing with gusto. Grantaire bummed a smoke from him while Feuilly warned them about the dangers of forest fires. Jehan wasn’t in his car or anywhere in sight, and Marius was complaining about the lack of phone service, so Courfeyrac leaned down to blare his car horn.

“Christ, Courf, was that really necessary?” yelled Joly after jumping in alarm. Bossuet chuckled and rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

“Would you rather start searching through the woods until we find Jehan and the mystery location? Maybe we’ll find a creepy abandoned cabin full of feral children,” said Courfeyrac, waggling his eyebrows and raising clawed hands. They had gone to see _Mama_ a few weeks previously and Joly had been horrified, not by the story, but by the little girls’ lack of hygiene.

“Shut up,” replied Joly at the same time that Cosette yelled out, “Oh, Jehan, there you are!”

They all turned to look in the direction that Cosette was waving. Jehan was quite literally frolicking his way to them, having just emerged from the forest beyond the cars. He had his hair braided even more intricately than usual, bunches of flowers tucked into the strands and weaved into a crown that circled his brow. On his arm he carried more flower crowns, no doubt meant for the rest of them. And he was wearing a dress.

It was a white front-buttoned dress with green grass print on the hem, bursting with flowers of red, blue and purple. The buttons were brightly colored, though he had only bothered to close up the first two. He had a floral neckerchief tied in a bow that rested on his collarbone, and a green belt around his waist with more fresh flowers tucked into it. His long, slender legs were bare beneath the dress, pale and dusted with hairs a shade lighter than those on his head. As he skipped toward them the skirt flounced up and down above his knees, and Courfeyrac was mesmerized and a little disappointed when the skirt didn’t flap up high enough to expose Jehan’s underwear – or lack thereof. He felt Eponine jab him in the ribs with a bony elbow and he swatted her away. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t be bothered to care. The boy looked amazing. On his feet were glaringly orange drugstore flip flops, his shoe of choice – they were cheap, which was a necessity when Jehan returned home most days missing one or both of his shoes. He took them off at every opportunity and promptly forgot about them.

“Hello and welcome to the grandest picnic we’ve had yet! Now, I’ve just spent an hour weaving these for you all, so you’ll wear them with grace and pride,” announced Jehan, staring Joly down fiercely when he opened his mouth to protest.

Cosette bounded forward eagerly to receive her flower crown, bowing her head before Jehan. He laughed delightedly and slipped the first crown from his arm, placing it atop her shining chestnut hair and giving her a kiss on the cheek. He did the same to Marius, Joly, Bossuet, Combeferre and Feuilly (Feuilly nicked a flower from Jehan’s belt and threaded it through the buttonhole on his vest and Jehan kissed both of his cheeks, delighted). Enjolras received his crown and kiss with solemnity, and Grantaire was too busy gaping at Enjolras’ beauty being accentuated by the flowers to pay attention to Jehan as he crowned and kissed him. Bahorel got down on one knee before Jehan, silly and sarcastic, and between the placing of the flowers and the kiss on his cheek he jumped up with a wolfish grin to dip Jehan in a bawdy kiss to the lips. Jehan’s face was scarlet when Bahorel released him. Courfeyrac felt his chest squeeze in adoration- and just a touch of jealousy – at the sight. Eponine was next, and Jehan jokingly warned her against attacking him before placing a sweet kiss on her cheek.

Finally, he came to Courfeyrac, who was trying to keep it cool and sure he was failing spectacularly. He gave Jehan a wide smile and opened his arms in invitation. Jehan looked up at the expression on Courfeyrac’s face and laughed nervously, the blush that had faded rising high on his cheeks again. He stood on tiptoe to place the final crown of flowers on Courfeyrac’s head, and let his hands linger there, his fingers arranging Courfeyrac’s hair around the blossoms for a few moments. Then he kissed Courfeyrac’s cheek as he had done to the others. Courfeyrac was hyper aware of the brush of Jehan’s lips against his skin, and the smell of his clean hair beneath the perfume of the flowers.

Courfeyrac wasn’t sure when his feelings for Jehan had turned from friendship to being completely enamored with him. Eponine thought that it was after one of their rowdier parties in junior year, when they all got drunk at Grantaire’s place. Jehan had crawled into Courfeyrac’s lap, knotted his hands in the boy’s hair and kissed him senseless until Cosette noticed and pulled them apart. They were both sent to bed with big glasses of water, Jehan weeping drunkenly about the fact that he “didn’t get to touch Courf’s penis”. The next morning Jehan barely remembered what had happened and laughed so hard when the others told him the story that he nearly passed out. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, remembered it well and remembered it often.

But the Jehan here and now, the Jehan in the pretty dress, was asking for Courfeyrac’s assistance as he walked to the car. Courfeyrac followed and Jehan opened the back door, handing him several brightly colored pails. They were the same ones they used at the beach to make sandcastles. Courfeyrac looked at them in confusion.

“There are raspberry bushes all along the trail to my meadow, I thought we could pick some and add them to the salad!” said Jehan excitedly. He also pulled a large cloth umbrella from the backseat, placing it on his shoulder. “I hate to be out of the sun, but I’ll quite literally be sizzling if I don’t use this,” Jehan explained bashfully, looking down at his pearly white skin.

“Jehan, you’re lovely. And aren’t you always talking about how romantic umbrellas are?” teased Courfeyrac.

“Yes, but I meant in the rain,” sighed Jehan, “The cliché of kissing in the rain isn’t nearly as romantic as kissing under an umbrella in the rain, it’s like being in a private little world…”

Courfeyrac outwardly laughed at Jehan’s poetic musings, but gathered the information close to his chest hopefully, storing it for later use.

The others had unpacked blankets, coolers full of drinks (the one thing Jehan allowed them to be in charge of), and Combeferre’s iPod dock from their cars. Jehan handed Courfeyrac the furled umbrella, took the pails from his hands and distributed them. He kept one for himself and explained about the raspberry bushes to the whole group before skipping back into the forest the way he had come. They all followed, Courfeyrac walking a bit quicker than he usually would in an attempt to catch up to Jehan. “Get ‘im, tiger!” yelled Bahorel, and Grantaire whistled loudly in agreement. Courfeyrac flipped them off without turning around or slowing his pace.

He made it to the cool shade of the forest path and found Jehan bent over a cluster of raspberry bushes, his skirt falling forward down his slouched form and revealing that he was, indeed, wearing underwear. Bright green, tight briefs. Courfeyrac stepped forward and pulled Jehan’s skirt down with a yank, chuckling.

“Man, if you’re gonna wear this you need modesty lessons or something from Cosette. She wears dresses that are way shorter than this but she never shows us her ass,” he said, still chuckling and maybe it was more because his clothes felt tight and hot than because it was still funny. “Time and place, Jehan.”

Jehan continued to pick his raspberries, unfazed. He leaned up slightly, brushing hair from his eyes and looking thoughtful. “I do wonder how she does it. If I were her everyone would have seen every inch of me by now. Good idea, Courfeyrac.” And with that he was bounding away to the next patch of bushes.

Combeferre walked up beside Courfeyrac, smiling and shaking his head in sympathy. “Jehan is something like a mix between a mythical creature and a toddler sometimes, isn’t he?”

“Please don’t compare anyone that I’m intending to date and hopefully make out with to a toddler ever again,” Courfeyrac said, pulling an obnoxiously grossed out face. And it was okay for him to say things like this casually, because everyone in their group of friends, even Musichetta, who was an on-again-off-again member, knew that Courfeyrac had been nursing a crush on Jehan for nearly three years now. Everyone but Jehan, at least.

By the time that they all emerged from the woods, they had two full pails of raspberries and a third with a few berries sitting sadly at the bottom (“Who let Marius be in charge of a bucket guys, seriously??”). They stood in a small meadow filled with several varieties of wildflower and tall, peacefully waving grass. It was bordered on one side by the woods, and on the other by a rocky stream and a cliffside. It was unreal in its beauty, quiet and tranquil and sunny. Near the creek Jehan had placed his special picnic blanket, red and white checked with poetry books holding down the corners. Beside it were his coolers of prepared food and his special picnic basket. Jehan was intense when it came to picnics. He set his pail of raspberries atop one of the coolers and directed Courfeyrac to stick his umbrella in the ground so that it cast its shade over his blanket, and the others spread their blankets in a semicircle around his.

They all settled down on their respective blankets. Marius, Cosette, Bossuet and Joly shared a giant quilt, each couple already cuddled together. Bahorel sprawled across his own blanket, patting the space beside him to encourage Feuilly to sit. Grantaire sat slightly behind Enjolras on his blanket in a weird show of submission before Enjolras rolled his eyes and beckoned him closer. Courfeyrac wasn’t sure what was going on there either, but he sympathized with Grantaire. Eponine and Combeferre shared a blanket companionably, an unlikely pair that had gotten close in the past year. Courfeyrac was honored to sit beside Jehan on his special blanket, but careful to not let himself make it more significant in his mind than it was. Jehan sat cross-legged, his skirt hanging down between his thighs and thankfully not showing off his underwear again. They all looked at him expectantly and he smiled serenely. Reaching for his picnic basket, he pulled china teacups out carefully and filled each with champagne before passing it to Courfeyrac, who passed each on its way. There was one for each of them.

Bahorel muttered about how Jehan’s picnics felt like a cult ritual and they all laughed, but secretly they all looked forward to this day every year.

**Author's Note:**

> That bit about Jehan being drunk and crying about not touching Courfeyrac's penis is a true story. I was Jehan. The guy that I was making out with was a stranger at a New Year's party who I decided looked like Matt Smith and called 'Doctor' all night. Never did find out what his real name was.


End file.
